- Scoot Devils & Sposmoker SC Scooter Run
- By Dave Gibbs
Regular readers of the AFSC web site may recall that last year I was extolling the virtues of the German Scooter Scene with the words “ you get to travel to a lot of different places that you wouldn’t usually visit”. These words of ‘wisdom’ were especially appropriate on Fri 6 May 2005, but more later. Simon Brunskill and I journeyed to the far-flung reaches of Fallingbostel to Craig Ballantyne's place where we met up with Gaz Powell and Steve Evans. Early planning was for Ian Botham and Mick Fulbrook to meet up at Craig’s as well, but Ian couldn’t get away from the course he’s on (about time you had a bit of education Ian!) so we set off intending to meet Ian and Mick at Ramelsloh.
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During our first petrol stop, Ian phoned to say he’d be setting off in an hour, so we changed direction and rode up to Bergen to meet the lads at the famous Grill Stop. For me, this RV was like returning to the scene of a crime, as I hadn’t been there since I left Hohne in ’98. A cup of coffee and plenty of chat followed, until Ian and Mick arrived. Now the weather over the last couple of weeks in Germany has been changeable to say the least and we had all resigned ourselves to a soaking, but I’m not sure setting out for Ramelsloh in a major storm was a good idea. Nevertheless, that’s what we did and the mixture of sunshine and showers (which reached monsoon standards at times) set the standard for the rest of the journey. Now, remember I mentioned at the start of the write-up about visiting lots of places? Well, we certainly did that all right as the map Craig had wasn’t sufficiently detailed to make navigating a simple task. We had some interesting detours en route, but Steve and Craig got us there in the end, nice one lads!
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As we neared the run site, Steve spotted a restaurant and as we had no idea what the catering arrangements were going to be at the site, we decided some quality scoff was order of the day. Ian was the first to spot the restaurant was called The Hacienda and this sparked off a plethora of Mancunian accents and Oasis impressions! Quite what the restaurant staff thought when we walked in, I don’t know. But they were friendly enough, made a bit of a stab at speaking English and the chomp was first class.
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Having stuffed ourselves, we got back on the scoots (in the dry this time) and rode the short distance to the run. It’s quite hard to describe the run site, but picture this; a big field with grass 18 inches high, a couple of Portaloos, two beer stands and a small brick structure in one corner that looked suspiciously like a cow shed. We soon became aware that the site was next door to a railway line just to add to the interest factor (yes, I’m being polite!). Tents were quickly pitched, to avoid getting another soaking, and several jokes were made that regarding a certain club member who we were afraid might get lost amongst the tall grass. “Keep shouting,” he was told. “We’ll find you eventually!” It wasn’t until we stood around talking and renewing acquaintances with our German counterparts, that it became apparent that the obligatory marquee that usually hosts the nighter was missing.
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Many theories were bounced around between us until we realised that there was music coming from somewhere. Enter the cowshed! Yes, we ventured into this structure to find a sound system, lights and not a trace of its’ former residents! I heard someone mention the concrete floor and how they were supposed to dance on it. Actually, the floor didn’t stop any of us and I was particularly impressed by Craig’s performance. If he left the dance floor that night, I certainly didn’t see him. The temperatures during the night were more akin to November than May and most people didn’t even take their jackets off. One of the lads decided a whiskey might warm him up and when we saw the huge measures being served up at only slightly more cost than a beer, the whiskey orders started flowing thick and fast! Despite everything, the nighter was excellent. The music was varied and top quality, the atmosphere was brilliant and everyone seemed to be determined to enjoy themselves. Unfortunately we all had to leave on the Saturday, so I sacked it well in advance of my usual hour, knowing that Simon Brunskill would be kicking me to get up pretty early the next day. What I didn’t know was that Simon Brunskill would stay up until dawn and would have a hangover from hell.
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I felt surprisingly good the next day, although my elbow was grazed and I’ve no idea how. Simon Brunskill and I said our goodbyes to the lads who were awake and started off on a hope and a prayer as we had no map and only a vague idea of the route. Luckily for me, Simon Brunskill's physical condition had no effect on his navigation skills and we made it straight back with only one stop for petrol. Well done mate!
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My thanks to the run organisers, all the AFSC lads who made it such an excellent laugh and all the German Scooterists (both old acquaintances and new ones), respect!
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